


Name, Rank, and Serial Number

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 16 Year Old Xander, Angry Sex, Community: Fall for S/X, Community: tamingthemuse, Episode Related: Halloween, First Time, Frottage, Holiday Fic: Halloween, M/M, PWP, soldier!xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened on Halloween night if Spike had run into Xander before he found the Slayer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Name, Rank, and Serial Number

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this fic taken from tamingthemuse prompt #381: Scrimmage  
>  **Notes:** For the first of my five days of Fall for S/X Season 10  
>  For those who are curious, I used a random Social Security number and blood type, and chose no preference for religion, since I'm pretty sure we haven't been told about one. If we have, please let me know!  
> I got the dogtags at [mydogtag.com](http://www.mydogtag.com).  
> The caps came from [Buffyworld](http://www.buffyworld.com/buffy/screencaps/018/).

 

  


 

Spike watched the little monsters run by with astonishment. “Well, this is just…neat!” He’d never seen anything quite like it in his hundred and twenty-four years. They weren’t actually demons, any of them, more like remarkably life-like _fake_ demons. As if some child with an extremely vivid imagination had dreamt up the whole lot of them. However, they didn’t smell human, and that was what was puzzling him most.

This was obviously what had kept Dru in a tizzy all day. Now that it was active, even Spike could feel the spell, despite his lack of sensitivity to magic. He could always feel the Hellmouth, and the magic swirling around them pulled heavily on the Hellmouth’s energy to power its storm. And what a storm it was, throwing chaos and pandemonium out in all directions.

A familiar scent hit him, and he spun around to see a soldier stride past, wearing an army uniform with camouflage pants, and holding an M16 rifle at ready. Now who did that scent remind him of? He followed along, getting a good hit of adrenaline and not-quite-blind panic – not as calm and collected as he seemed. He hid it well. Only the white knuckled grip on his rifle gave it away, and the way his head jerked as he looked from monster to baby monster.

When he looked Spike’s direction, it jogged his memory. This was the tasty treat Angelus tried to tempt him with several weeks ago, all big, brown eyes and dark hair, and a spine of steel. He’d admired the kid’s ability to make jokes while two vampires conversed above him. Spike hadn’t had a chance to follow him when he ran, he’d had a Slayer to fight after all, but he’d recognized the boy from the first time he saw him, throwing a stake to the Slayer in the alley behind the Bronze.

Maybe he could get a bead on the Slayer’s whereabouts if he followed this one for a while. It was worth a shot, anyroad, and who knew, it might turn out to be a bit of fun. A girl screamed loudly, and the soldier headed down an alley toward the noise. Spike wasn’t surprised. He was a friend of the Slayer’s, after all, it made sense he’d be a white hat, even when he was under a spell. A pirate, and a caveman argued loudly while a convict in stripes, and a Fu Manchu villain with a braided mustache that hung down to his knees held a girl in a nurse’s uniform. They all squabbled loudly about who got the girl first.

Soldier Boy cracked the caveman in the head with the butt of his rifle and he dropped like a rock, but the pirate jumped him, and they went rolling across the alley. Spike hated to be a spoil-sport, but if he let the other two have the girl, Soldier Boy would insist on protecting her, and he’d never find the Slayer. He pulled her away from them, and told her to run, advice she rapidly followed. Fu Manchu and the convict came after him, but Spike dispatched them in quick succession with an uppercut to the jaw for one, and a roundhouse kick for the other.

Soldier Boy was whaling away on the pirate, and Spike stood back to watch the carnage. He quite enjoyed watching the boy, there was an almost animal grace to his movements that had Spike adjusting his cock, and wondering if there was time for a quick grope before he hunted down the Slayer.

Soldier Boy straightened up, briskly brushing his hands together. “It’s strange, but beating up that pirate gave me a weird sense of closure.”

Spike heard a familiar voice, and he pushed Soldier Boy back, flattening him against the side of a dumpster, one hand over his mouth, and the other holding a knife to his throat. The soldier’s eyes widened, but he understood the threat and remained silent.

“He was dressed as a soldier,” the little redhead said, her voice wavering in her concern. “He didn’t recognize me or anything. I told him to stay by the park, but he’s not there. Where could he be?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” Angelus’ voice was strained.

They were looking for Soldier Boy, were they? Well then, he could take advantage of that, and use the soldier as Slayer bait. He waited until they were well past, then he guided the soldier over to the back door of the warehouse, and pulled the knife off him long enough to break the lock. He felt Soldier Boy’s muscles tense, so Spike was prepared when he brought up his knee, aiming for the family jewels. He grabbed the soldier’s knee at the last second and held on, using it to keep him unbalanced. Pushing him through the door, Spike laughed at the look of surprise on the Soldier’s face as he hopped backwards to avoid landing in a heap at Spike’s feet.

Spike gave him an extra push, and he overbalanced with a shout. Spike shoved the door closed, and took off his duster, while the soldier was down. Soldier Boy recovered faster than he’d expected, rushing Spike, and knocking him into the wall beside the door. He aimed several blows at Spike’s gut in quick succession, but Spike blocked them all, then sent the soldier reeling with a backhand to the face. He slammed into a stack of wooden pallets, and tumbled to the ground, the pallets crashing around him.

He rolled to his feet, a board from one of the broken pallets in his hand, swinging it at Spike’s head. Blocking the board, Spike pulled it out of Soldier Boy’s hands, and threw it at the back wall. Well, that would never do. He’d just have to teach this boy a lesson about swinging wood around in front of his betters. The soldier took advantage of Spike’s momentary loss of concentration, and charged him, knocking them both to the floor.

They scrambled around for a moment, flipping this way and that, until Spike got tired of playing around, and put an end to the fight, grabbing both wrists in one hand, and holding them to the floor over his head. Soldier Boy struggled valiantly, but to no avail. Once Spike had tired of the play, and started taking him seriously, he had no chance, and Spike made that abundantly clear.

Eventually, he gave up the struggle, his muscles going slack, relaxing into Spike’s grip. Spike had no doubt that the fight wasn’t over yet, but at least he was smart enough to know when the fight was useless, and was willing to conserve his energy for a later opportunity. He’d have to watch Soldier Boy carefully.

“Soldier Boy.”

He studied the soldier’s face carefully. It seems he was one who grew on you – his face was definitely pleasing enough, and Spike liked his spirit, and the way he moved in a fight. He settled a little more firmly on his seat astride the soldier, and got a hit of pheromones in response.

“Well, aren’t you something special.” It seemed he liked it when Spike squirmed in his lap.

“Here now, I can’t go calling you Soldier Boy all the time. You have a name?”

He squared his jaw, and clenched his teeth, refusing to say anything, chin held high.

Spike just laughed at him. Everything he needed to know should be on those dog tags lying on his chest. Spike made a serious effort to try and get him to open his mouth, wiggling his ass directly over his cock, which Spike could tell was becoming interested in the proceedings, no matter how much he denied it with his actions.

“Well, let’s just see what these say.” He grabbed the tags, smirking at the look of frustration on Soldier Boy’s face.

“Harris, Alexander L.”

He smiled slyly, and moved his hips, his ass grinding down into Harris’ lap. The tags even gave Spike Harris’ blood type. Wasn’t that convenient? “O Positive, eh? Delicious.”

He stroked a fingertip the length of Harris’ neck, and the boy’s muscles tightened, unintentionally broadcasting his moves to Spike. He wasn’t very subtle. But he was young, he would learn. He burst into another uncoordinated frenzy of movement, even though it was obvious he couldn’t escape from Spike’s hold.

Spike rode out his struggles, taking the opportunity to squirm around in Soldier Boy’s lap some more. When Harris realized it was only making matters worse, he quit. His panting seemed more connected to Spike than to his struggles, though. When Spike rolled his hips, Harris moaned quietly, his eyes closing as he arched his back to increase the pressure.

“That’s more like it,” Spike murmured.

Soldier Boy’s uniform shirt was unbuttoned, leaving just his green sleeveless undershirt, what the yanks call a ‘wife beater.’ Spike ran his free hand up Harris’ ribs, and felt his shaky breaths all the way up his arm. He pulled one sharp nipple, right through the thin material, and Harris’ whole body jerked as he gasped.

“Like that, do you? I thought as much.” He did it again on the other side, only harder, and added a twist at the end, and Soldier Boy’s guttural moan was music to Spike’s ears. “Very nice.”

His own cock ached in a pleasant way, the tight confines of his black jeans making it difficult to concentrate. “Now, I’m going to let your hands go, and I expect you to leave them above your head. Can you do that, Harris?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and Spike smiled at him. “Good boy.”

Harris blushed heavily, from the top of his head down to his chest, at least as far as the eye could see with that undershirt in the way. Well, there was a remedy for that. Spike took the top edge of the shirt in his hands, and ripped it apart, clear down to Harris’ waist. He’d settled down some until then, but obviously Spike had crossed over some invisible line, and Harris reacted, bursting into action, taking Spike by surprise, and pushing him backwards to the dusty floor of the warehouse.

Harris crab-walked backwards, trying to put some distance between the two of them, but Spike was faster, launching himself at Harris, and knocking him flat. The soldier used Spike’s momentum against him, rolling them over as he tried to get the upper hand. Spike let him have at it, giving him plenty of rope with which to hang himself, and only fighting back enough to keep him close, their bodies rubbing firmly against each other as they rolled over and over again.

Now this was fun. If the scent of arousal coming off Harris was anything to go by, Spike wasn’t the only one enjoying their struggles. Soldier Boy stopped suddenly, his back to the floor, and Spike raised himself up on his elbows to get a good look into his flushed face.

“You’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” he asked, panting heavily.

Spike shrugged, smiling self-consciously. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You humans have such fragile, little egos.”

The reminder of the difference between the two sent Harris into one last flurry of action, struggling futilely against Spike, who simply held still while he fought, one leg on either side of Harris’, keeping their cocks lined up, and rubbing against each other the whole time. It felt bloody good, and when he finally came to a halt Spike attacked Harris’ mouth, forcing his tongue inside and exploring eagerly. Harris fought him at first, but finally he gave in, sucking on Spike’s tongue, and biting hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of his own blood in Harris’ mouth brought Spike’s arousal to a fever pitch, and he started a grinding rhythm, moving his hips sinuously. Harris finally gave himself over to his fervor, holding on tightly, his hips pumping frantically. He grabbed Spike’s arse, squeezing and kneading, and pulling him down, forcing them even more closely together. God yes, this was just what he’d needed tonight. Harris broke their kiss, his head falling back to the floor as he panted and gasped for breath, exposing his succulent neck to Spike, just begging for attention.

He attacked Harris’ neck with dull, human teeth, biting and sucking, _chewing_ on the soft skin. Harris was close now; Spike could smell the precome soaking through the material of his camos as they wrestled, bucking and brawling against each other. He heard the sharp intake of breath that signaled the beginning of Harris’ orgasm and he struck deep and true, his mouth flooded with the hot, rich taste. Harris shouted as Spike drank deeply, his senses flooded with the scent of the soldier’s come, and the succulent, ambrosial flavor of his blood.

His own orgasm hit him with a rush, and he pulled his head back, his shouts echoing in the large room as his hips stuttered and jerked against Harris’, drawing out a long, low moan from Soldier Boy. Spike tucked his head back into Harris’ neck, and licked up the slowing stream of blood. He’d never tasted anything as delicious. He nicked his tongue, and let his blood mix with Harris’ in the wounds; that would help him heal. He’d taken a fair amount, enough to keep the boy pliant and agreeable. Spike didn’t have enough energy left to fight both him _and_ the Slayer.

He lifted himself off Soldier Boy with a sigh. He’d much rather relax and have a beer than face the Slayer right now. But at least she’d be under the same spell as Harris, so she wouldn’t be much of a challenge. He hated to take her when she wasn’t at her best, it would feel as if he’d been cheated, somehow. But Drusilla’s health was more important than his pride, and he needed the Slayer out of the way, if he was going to find a cure for his Black Rose. He frowned at the mess he’d made of his jeans, and crossed to the sink on the far wall, grabbing a handful of paper towels to clean himself up with – as best he could.

He buttoned his red shirt as he walked back over. Soldier Boy lay on the floor, not making any effort to get up. Spike dropped some towels on top of him, admiring the look of him – all messy, brown hair and dark, languid eyes, looking thoroughly debauched with his limbs sprawled wide.

“Come on, get off the floor, Harris, and clean yourself up. We have a Slayer to find.” He grabbed his duster off the floor where it had dropped earlier, and turned around to find the soldier on his feet, back turned as he cleaned up, as if he had call to be shy at this point. Harris turned around, buttoning up his uniform shirt over the ruin of his undershirt. Spike put his fingers on Soldier Boy’s jaw, tipping his head to the side to examine the suck marks on his neck, teeth _and_ fang marks prominent on his throat. No one would be able to mistake how he’d gotten those.

Harris jerked free, his chin held high. “Sergeant Alexander Harris, 979-65-4283.”

“O Positive, yes, I know. Perfectly delicious is what you are. Once I take care of my Wicked Plum, I may just come back for you. Drusilla and I could have a lot of fun with someone as tasty as you.”

A wave of magic swept through the room, leaving Harris panting, and blinking as he looked around him. Spike could tell the moment the spell lifted, although it took Harris a few moments more to register the change.

“Spike?”

He stumbled backwards, hitting the wall behind him, dark, frightened eyes taking in the warehouse they stood in, before landing on the scuffed floor where they’d engaged in their splendid bit of frottage. His wide, shocked eyes made it clear that he remembered what had happened, and he raised one shaking hand to his neck, wincing at the evidence he found of their time together.

Well, damn. He’d wasted his time with his Soldier Boy, and missed his chance with the slayer. He refused to regret it, though. Any time that ended in an orgasm was time well spent in Spike’s books. He’d just have to find another way to solve his Slayer problem. He schooled his face to keep his frustration from showing.

Spike traced one finger along the jaw of the trembling boy in front of him, smirking as the scent of arousal filled his senses. Teenage boys were such randy creatures. He touched one finger to the still seeping wounds in Harris’ neck, coming away with a drop of blood. Lifting it, Spike sucked his finger into his mouth, reveling in the taste of the boy’s rich blood. The arousal in the air thickened, the boy’s pupil’s shot wide as he stared at Spike’s lips, mesmerized.

“You tell the Slayer that you saved her life tonight, Soldier Boy. I’ll be back for her another time. And you?” He hummed as he traced Harris’ lips with his wet finger. “Mmmmm. I’ll be seeing you again, soon.”

He turned his back, duster flaring dramatically as he left the warehouse – it never hurt to leave your audience gasping in awe. All the way back to the factory, his mind was filled with the time they’d spent together. Yes. He’d definitely be back for that one.


End file.
